Then, Now, and Forever
by lexiecullen17
Summary: Set in 1940's Germany. Edward is a prison guard, Bella is his prisoner. Can their love overcome their circumstances? Written for Eight Days of Cullen.


**AN: ****SERIOUS WARNING****. This one shot pertains to EXTREMELY sensitive material, more specifically The Holocaust and the concentration camp at Dachau. This was not written to offend anyone in any way, shape, or form. I am Jewish, yes, and my family was incredibly affected by The Holocaust, so what I'm writing is incredibly personal. **

**This is NOT what I usually write. Let me repeat: THIS ISN'T MY TYPICAL GENRE.**

**There is your warning, so please don't be upset with me for writing something that's close to my heart just because it might be upsetting to you.**

**That said, this was written for the Eight Days of Cullen c2. This is the only downer out of all of the nights, so if you're yearning for some happiness after this, feel free to check them out. Link is on my profile.**

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**Winter. Germany. 1930.**

When Edward Cullen was eight years old, his life changed completely. He'd been outside, walking home from school, when he'd noticed his shoe was untied. The laces had been giving him trouble all day, and he'd reminded himself yet again that it was a good thing that his father had taught him how to tie it, otherwise he would have been out of luck.

He bent down, paying special close attention to pulling the string through the hole he'd created when he heard a small tinkling, like bells…only prettier. His head snapped up, and his eyes landed on a small girl, sitting on his neighbor's front stoop. Her tinkling laughter had been the sound of bells he'd heard, he was positive. And she was just as beautiful as the sound she'd been making. Long brown hair curled in ringlets down her back, curling around her rosy cheeks and wide brown eyes. She was wearing a light pink dress with lots of lace and ribbon – much too light for the chilly mid-December weather, and when she coughed, Edward was immediately concerned for her health.

He shrugged out of his jacket, which he was required to wear for his uniform and held it out to her.

She bit her lip and refused him, claiming that she had to go inside soon anyway.

"Inside?" Edward inquired, curious as to where the beautiful little girl lived.

"I just moved here with my family from Italy. Papa has a new job, and I had to leave my friends." She paused and looked thoughtful, appraising the small boy in front of her. "Your hair is a funny color. What's your name?"

Edward was furious. How dare this small girl insult him? He'd offered her his coat and she'd only made fun of him in response. What he didn't know was that the little girl thought he was the most handsome boy she'd ever laid eyes on. She had been so taken aback by the copper tones in his hair, that she couldn't help but question him about it. She'd never seen hair such a unique and gorgeous color before. Mistaken, Edward was about to let his anger explode on her when the front door opened, revealing an older woman, obviously the young girl's mother – she was nearly her spitting image.

"Isabella! Get inside this house, we're about to light the Hanukkah candles, and you'll freeze to death out here in that party dress of yours."

She continued to stare him down, her eyes boring holes into his, until he realized what she'd been waiting for. "I'm Edward," he replied nervously, causing the little girl to break into a large smile. It lit up her entire face, making the winter chill a little less frigid.

Edward cocked his head to the side as the little girl waved goodbye and ran into the house, shutting the door firmly behind her. He'd never heard of Hanukkah before. And as he stood outside Isabella's stoop, watching her light candles on an oddly shaped candelabra. The soft glow of the candles flickered over her skin like a halo, making Edward's breath catch in his throat; he knew that she was going to change his life forever.

**Winter. Germany. 1940.**

Long gone were the peaceful days of Edward's easy childhood. Now, he sat, sighing at the long line of crying women in front of him, deducing which ones were fit for labor and which ones weren't. Although he was only eighteen, he'd been given a multitude of responsibilities by the highest officials. After all, Edward was nothing if not obedient.

He didn't necessarily believe in the poor treatment of Jews, but he was no sympathizer. At least, that's what he'd told himself when he'd signed up for Hitler's youth and got transferred to work at Dachau, a small labor camp in the heart of Germany. His parents had congratulated him on taking initiative and supporting his state. They figured that it was a good thing, what Hitler was doing. After all, Jews couldn't work in regular jobs, but here they were taken care of and put to good use.

"Name," he repeated, for the thousandth time that day. It was Edward's duty to write down the names of all of the women entering the camp before directing them to their beds.

His hand, perched to copy down the name, faltered when a tinkling voice responded, "Isabella Swan."

His eyes snapped up, and it was as if he were transported into the body of his eight-year-old self. She was as beautiful as ever. Her hair was shorter and her ringlets had transformed into soft chestnut-colored waves, curling up at the ends around her shoulders. Her cheeks were still flushed with the winter air as it whipped across her skin, and her deep brown eyes were wide with worry and sadness.

Isabella didn't seem to recognize him, though. Why would she? At the age of twelve, Edward had been sent to boarding school in Salzburg, rarely coming home to visit—except for at Christmas time and summer holiday. By the time he'd turned fifteen, Isabella and her family had moved out of the community. Well, they'd been more forced out than anything. The neighborhood hadn't wanted Jews living there. He still remembered the night he came home from Christmas vividly, seeing the smashed windows of Isabella's family's apartment. He'd stepped over the shattered glass carefully, hoping that maybe if he didn't disturb the scene, it would magically return to its former state. Unfortunately, it hadn't, and he'd never come across her path again. Until today, of course.

He cleared his throat and repeated her name back to her as he wrote it across the legend, recording it for all of eternity to see. He wrote down the number in his legible script, the numbers 102,422, which were to be tattooed to her arm. He regretted her flawless skin being blemished with the black numbers, but it was protocol. There was nothing he could do.

"Next," he called out again, this time, his throat cracking under the weight of his heavy emotions.

She shuffled past him, and he continued his duties, only turning around when he heard her muffled cry as the ink began to seep into her porcelain flesh. It was unexpected, the surge of protectiveness he felt for her. It reminded him of the night he'd met her, when he'd inexplicably offered her his coat in the brisk winter air. Only now, he'd wanted to take her away from all of this. She was too innocent and frail to work, but he'd approved her for labor anyway. At least this way, he'd be able to keep any eye on her.

Isabella walked through the camp, frightened senseless. She'd been through too much, too soon. She barely recognized the hundreds of faces as they blurred by her in a whirl of confusion. She'd only stopped and paused to give her name to the labor camp attendant. Her eyes had widened as she took in the striking copper strands of his hair, reminding her so much of the attractive neighbor from her past.

She looked down at the newly demarcated numbers on her forearm, cringing at the residual pain as she was pushed into the women in line ahead of her. Suddenly, she was being stripped bare and forced under a cold stream of water, causing her pale skin to turn blue and her body to shudder with the force of her chills. A hacking cough ripped its way through her lungs, sputtering under the undue stress of the cold.

Isabella was pushed out of the shower just as quickly and was handed a thin piece of fabric to pull over her body, not nearly warm enough for the frigid conditions. Her hair hung heavily, inundated with wetness, which dripped in long torrents down her back. Still shivering, she was forced into a tiny room, already cramped with too many other women. Several were crying and Isabella finally gave into the tears prickling around her eyes and let them fall down her cheeks.

She was so hungry. And so cold. And she missed her parents. They'd been separated upon arriving, and she hadn't seen them since. She was beginning to wonder if she ever would again. Seeing the other sobbing young girls around her, she realized it was doubtful.

The day went by slowly, getting colder and colder as the sun disappeared behind heavy gray clouds. At nightfall, Isabella finally took note of the space around her. She looked around her room and saw that there were no free beds and barely any floor space left. Curling up into the corner, she let her head fall to her knees, taking up as little space as possible. Unfortunately, her spot was right next to the open door, and her skin would raise and bump every time a gust of wind would whirl through. Her lungs wheezed, the rattling sound keeping her awake long after the others had fallen into their slumber. And finally, the room faded to darkness around her.

It was Edward's night to check on all the rooms - checking for bodies. It was his duty to ensure any weak bodies, the ones that gave out from the cold, were found so they could be properly disposed of. He walked through the women's barracks, looking through the heavily stacked beds for the small, even puffs of hot air being released from their mouths. Seeing that everyone was alive and well, ready for work to begin tomorrow morning, Edward started to make his way out of the room.

His foot caught on something in the doorway, tripping up his boot as he walked, and when he looked down, he realized that it was the small, blue hand of a woman who had collapsed. Another body to dispose of, he thought absentmindedly, nudging the body to face him with the toe of his boot. He gasped in shock, recognizing the petite features of the presumed dead woman on the ground.

No, no, no, no! Edward's body retaliated, shaking in fear as he pressed his hand against the woman's chest. There were no puffs of air around her mouth, signaling that she'd stopped breathing, and for the first time in Edward's life, he was truly terrified. His heart calmed significantly when the first dull thud of the woman's heartbeat pressed against his hand, raising it ever so slightly. He couldn't leave her here, though. Edward was sure that the fragile woman wouldn't last the night. He should have known with her grotesque cough from earlier that her shower would only exacerbate her breathing problems. He needed to get her into a heated room quickly.

Without hesitation, Edward picked up the limp body, cradling it to his chest. He inhaled quickly at the sensation of her body against his. She felt like a block of ice, even through the thick wool of his uniform, and he nearly gasped again as he saw chunks of the girl's pretty hair snapped off along the floor where it'd frozen and broken off. He felt like crying. Knowing that he was the only one on duty in the women's barracks, Edward made the quick journey to his own private bunk with the woman in his arms. It had been a huge risk to take her out of her room, but all he knew was that he couldn't leave her there to die. He just couldn't.

Instead, he brought his entire focus to bringing the breath back to the lifeless body before him. He laid her down onto his blankets, wrapping her in the thick wool before turning around to lock his door and turn up the heat in the small room. It was tiny, only big enough for one, with a small chest of drawers and an even smaller closet, but Edward couldn't bring himself to care. All he knew was that he had to save this woman.

He only paused to light some candles in the room before returning to the bed to rub the body up and down over the thick comforter he'd swaddled her in. Edward sighed in relief when after merely two minutes, he heard the soft wheezing of her breath return. She hadn't woken up yet, but she was breathing. And that was good enough for Edward for the time being.

He turned around, finally, and decided to prepare for bed. He had just taken off his shoes and shirt when Isabella opened her eyes. She thought she'd died and gone to heaven. There, in front of her, was the little boy from her childhood, her first crush, surrounded by the warm glow of candles. He was her angel. Edward. She hummed his name with delirious happiness, causing Edward to spin around in the tiny room, shocked at what he'd heard.

"My angel, Edward," he heard her sigh breathlessly before her eyes fluttered closed again.

His heart beat out of control in his chest. Was it true that she remembered him after all? Completely entranced and under her spell, he walked towards her, perching on the edge of the bed to watch her sleeping form. "No, Isabella," he whispered, stroking her icy cheek with his warm hand, "it is you, who are the angel." Her skin warmed and flushed under his touch. Edward had heard the best way to increase body heat was through skin-to-skin contact, but he'd never thought he'd have to utilize that information. It seemed incredibly inappropriate to take advantage of the sleeping girl like that, but he paid no attention to his conscience.

Instead, he stripped down to his pajama pants and slipped into his tiny twin bed with her. He swaddled them both into the blankets and cocooned her body with his. His arms wrapped around her waist, and Isabella was breathing more evenly and deeper within the hour. Edward wanted nothing more than to spend the night just staring at her, but soon he, too, succumbed to sleep.

Isabella woke in the middle of the night, feeling more rested and content than she could remember. She was warm, even.

Wait, warm? Alarmed, she looked around and saw that she was in the embrace of another person. In a bed. Under a blanket. For a second, she panicked and thought she'd died and gone to heaven, until the body behind her stirred slightly. Isabella turned slowly in the stranger's arms, stretching out her aching muscles, which were cramped from her slumber on the floor of the crowded bunk. She moved her eyes upward, shocked at the boy before her eyes. Her angel. She thought she'd dreamt his existence, but he seemed to be corporeal, much to her amazement.

"Edward?" she whispered, reaching a shaking hand to stroke his cheek tentatively.

Rousing under her touch, Edward came to life, shocked by the wide brown eyes set on his. He'd forgotten that he'd brought her back to his room. And then, he realized that she'd said his name. "Isabella?"

Blood flooded to her cheeks. He was real. "Am I in heaven?" she asked, running her fingers through the strangely perfect caramel-colored hair she'd admired when she had been a little girl.

Edward reveled in the feeling of her nails on his scalp, surprised by the blood that rushed to his less proper body parts. She had remembered him, after all. "Oh, Bella," he gushed, not knowing where the endeared, shortened version of her name came from. But he liked it, all the same. And so did she. Her body responded without her permission, moving her hand back to his scruffy cheek.

She took a deep breath in, but the warm air felt thick against her lungs, causing her to choke. Her coughing got louder, completely breaking the semblance of calm that had fallen over the two of them. Instead, Edward returned to his state of panicked as Isabella burrowed her face into his chest.

"Bella," he whispered, rubbing soothing circles into her back as she continued to sputter uncontrollably. "Bella...Bella, please. Are you all right?"

"Why are you taking care of me?" She looked up at him, revealing the trails of tears down her flushed cheeks as he pushed strands of her hair behind her ears.

Edward was unsure of how to answer. He didn't understand the instinctual need to care for this girl any more than she did. However, he decided to be as honest as possible. "I feel...very...protective of you." He was about to lean down to kiss Isabella's forehead, when there was a loud knocking on his door.

"Cullen!" The knocking came again, causing Edward to panic. He could under no circumstances let Isabella be found. "Cullen!" the voice came again.

Edward had to think fast. He rolled out of bed quickly, trying not think about how the cool air felt against his naked skin. His eyes darted around the room, quickly finding the closet. Isabella followed his gaze and pulled herself out of the bed and into the closest quickly. Edward's eyes were filled with apology as he put a finger up to his lips, motioning for her to be silent, but Isabella wasn't offended in the least. She valued Edward's protection. He was truly her guardian angel.

Edward composed himself before answering the door. Waiting angrily in the hall was his superior, a stocky, older fellow named Marcus.

"Marcus?" he croaked, attempting to sound bleary and just woken. "Is everything okay?"

Marcus looked confused. "I was about to ask you the same." He paused, looking Edward over thoughtfully. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, though. Edward had always been an exemplary officer, always following orders perfectly. "I thought I heard voices in here."

"Voices?" Edward asked, feigning shock. He hadn't realized how loud he and Isabella had been talking. He hadn't thought their whispering would be heard. They'd definitely need to work on that if she wanted to remain undetected. It was then that Edward realized that he was making plans for Isabella to remain in his room. After he'd had her in his bed, there was no way he would be able to let her back into the labor camp and out of his sight.

"Yes, voices. May I come in?" Marcus snapped, crossing the threshold of the room. As his boot squeaked on the floorboards, Edward recognized the muffled coughing of Isabella from the closet. He could only pray that Marcus hadn't been able to hear it over his own voice. Edward moved to the side, allowing Marcus to expect his dormitory. His heart pounded, his pulse throbbing in his ears as Marcus inspected his room.

Isabella froze, hand over her mouth, as the noises from outside came closer towards the closet. She was hidden behind Edward's hanging uniforms, but if the officer decided to open the door, they'd both be dead. She could feel a cough bubbling up inside her chest, but she willed it down. Her fear overpowered any physical need at the moment.

Finally, Marcus cocked his head and sighed, apologizing to Edward for the inconvenience. He should have known that Edward would never break the rules.

Edward waited exactly eight minutes and thirty-four seconds before opening the closet door back up, revealing a shaking Isabella. Her terror was evident, making her body convulse with tremors from her raging adrenaline. The poor thing had probably gone into shock. He cradled her to his chest, yet again, and laid them down on his twin bed, bringing the covers back over them as she sobbed silently into the crook of his neck. He pet the chestnut hair he'd loved so much, loving how soft it felt in between his fingertips.

Isabella tilted her chin upwards, leaning into his hand, allowing its comfort. Without another word, Edward brought his lips down to her forehead. Seeing the path of his lips, Isabella unexpectedly moved her head so his lips would meet with hers instead. He nearly pulled away, thinking that he had done it by accident, but when he felt her lips push against his, he gave in.

His fingers stopped petting her head, instead twining their way through the strands to bring her lips closer to his. Isabella's eyes fluttered closed, concentrating only on the sensations of their pillowy, soft lips joining together. It was everything Isabella had ever wanted. She felt like she'd waited her whole lifetime to have those lips against hers, or at least since she was six--the first day she'd laid eyes on Edward, ten years ago.

Edward, however, kept his bright eyes open. He needed to see her to believe she was real. His hands refused to remain stagnant, as well. They traveled down her hair to her back, running a small circuit over her arms, before returning again.

Isabella's weak lungs were unable to sustain her for a prolonged amount of time, and with chagrin, she finally pulled away.

"I'm sorry," she gasped quietly, bringing her eyes down and refusing to look at Edward. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. How very forward of her, she thought. It wasn't a girl's place to kiss a boy like that.

"Please, don't be sorry," Edward replied, his eyes shining with sincerity. And for the first time in a very long time, Isabella trusted someone. A smile broke out across her face, and Edward recognized it as the same one as the one he'd seen the first night they'd met on her front stoop. It was enough to lighten his heavy and guilty heart--his heart, which had been waiting for Isabella for the past ten years. He let his hand trace the contours of her cheeks, and he loved the silent way she leaned into his hand with ease. "We just have to be more careful."

Isabella nodded, and her breath hitched with anticipation as Edward leaned in towards her lips again. They met in a slow, sensuous kiss. He kissed away all of her fears, comforting her with each languid stoke of his tongue against hers. They were both positive that it was fate that had brought them together again, saving one other without as much as a single word. One had saved the other's life, Edward physically saving hers, and she metaphorically saving his from fascist obscurity.

That night, the two fell asleep, bodies intertwined, filling the gaps in their souls they hadn't even known were missing.

The next morning, Edward woke up at sunrise, just to watch Isabella sleep. He was positive her sleeping form was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, the steady cadence of her even breaths warming his heart. As much as it pained him to have to wake her, he knew that he couldn't leave her out in the open to be potentially found. That would do them no good. Instead, he lifted her body to press against his chest and rubbed small circles on her back and shoulder, rousing her slowly.

"Bella, I need to get to breakfast," he whispered as her eyes cracked open. Isabella inhaled quickly, surprised that Edward was still there. She thought she'd dreamed his presence into existence. Edward sighed, relaxing into the petite hands that were now running through his hair. Unable to stop themselves, they both leaned forward into a small kiss before pulling back quickly and deciding that Isabella should remain out of sight, in the closet, until Edward was able to return.

"Please be as quiet as possible," Edward warned, wanting Isabella to still be waiting for him at the end of the day. Nodding solemnly, she curled up into the corner of the closet and promptly fell back asleep. He kissed her forehead softly and exited the room, leaving his heart in her protection.

That night, Edward hurried back to his room following his shift, needing to get back to Isabella and away from the horrors that he no longer felt like he could turn a blind eye to. He didn't know how he'd been able to for so long. Every corner he turned, he felt ill.

Back in the room, Isabella waited patiently, wondering when Edward would return. She was warm now, but her cough still ached low in her chest. Alight with hope, Isabella heard the sound of feet shuffling in the corridor outside Edward's room. Her heart came alive as she heard someone open the door. Footsteps came closer with no introduction, and Isabella started to panic. Silent tears streamed down her face and her stifled sobs wracked her body as she convulsed wildly. There was no sense of time in her world, having been left alone all day. The approaching footsteps could be the last she'd ever see. She wished momentarily that she'd had more to share with Edward than their brief kiss if this was truly the end for her. Her heartbeat picked up as the footsteps came closer, but it calmed as soon as she saw Edward's worried face as the door opened. Relieved, she let out a few whispered cries, and Edward immediately regretted not warning her of his arrival. He picked her up, cradling her to his chest, as had become his favorite way of holding her, and sat them down on the edge of his bed.

He attempted to calm her, but she was too far-gone. Whenever Edward had not felt well, his mother had made him a bath. He wondered how appropriate that situation would be. He'd never seen the naked flesh of a woman before, and he wasn't sure that she'd want him to see hers anyway. But she was so upset already, Edward assumed he couldn't make anything much worse. And she would need to be cleaned anyway, he rationalized.

Carefully, Edward filled his tub with the perfect amount of hot water, letting it run as he turned back to the shuddering Isabella. "Please, don't be afraid," he apologized over and over, repeating the words he thought she'd need to hear. The thin piece of fabric, the sorry excuse for clothing that the work camp handed out, was peeled off of her body, revealing her skin, caked with dirt from the floor of the bunker. He regretted not offering a bath to the young woman yesterday. His heart ached with worry as her sobs continued to echo throughout the room. Without another word, Edward placed her into the warm water, which finally caused her tears to cease. Isabella's eyes widened as she finally took in the young man in front of her. Although she'd never been particularly concerned with modesty, she realized she'd never really had to be. And now, the man of her dreams was staring at her naked skin.

Isabella tilted her head downwards, away from the scrutiny of Edward's eyes, despite the fact that he attempted to be as clinical as possible. He wet a washrag, rubbing it with soap before wiping it across her shoulders, watching the rivulets of water drip down her fair skin. His hand circled, covering the wide expanse of her back, cleaning her gently and as carefully as possible. Isabella had never felt more cared for. She leaned backwards into Edward's touch, sighing with ease, allowing the panic that had overcome her slowly to dissipate. Edward's hands wandered more freely as he saw her relax, coming below the line of the water soap up her back and stomach. He moved with ease to her legs, lifting each one up by the knee to caress her skin. And though Edward was trying to be as gentlemanly as possible, he realized that there were places on Isabella's body that he had never touched before. This realization happened the same time Isabella wondered if Edward would touch those very same places. As the reality of the situation started to sink in, their breathing increased and blood stained both their cheeks. Edward could feel his flesh hardening in his pants, and the puckering of Isabella's nipples underneath the now murky bathwater didn't help it.

Feeling emboldened, and remembering her previous wish from her panic earlier, Isabella gripped Edward's wrist, which was stilled underneath her chest, and guided it towards her aching breasts. They both inhaled sharply, again in unison, as Edward dropped the washcloth and continued to caress her skin, only using his palm and the pads of his fingers. Edward looked incredibly nervous, but Isabella refused to live in fear any longer. She wanted to live each moment with Edward as if it were her last, and she wanted nothing more than Edward's hands on her.

"It's okay," Isabella confirmed as she placed her hand over his to guide his shaking hands. His thumb stroked across her breast making her shiver. His other hand moved down to her stomach, swiping back and forth slowly, simply enjoying the feel of her skin beneath his. "I don't know how much time we have together."

Her statement got Edward's attention, breaking his heart with her necessary skepticism. Slowly, with purpose, Edward dragged his hand lower, coming to rest over her heated sex. His other hand continued to massage her breast while the other one explored the soft recesses of her core. Isabella had never felt anything like this, and her head fell back like a baby unable to keep it upright. Edward's finger delved experimentally, seeing what motions elicited which reactions from her.

His eyes widened with curiosity as his finger rubbed against her walls and she convulsed around him, letting out the sweetest whimper he'd ever heard. As her body continued to clench, Isabella brought her hands around Edward's neck, pulling his face to hers. She wanted his lips on hers, her tongue in the warm comfort of his mouth. Edward continued to plunge his finger within her, never ceasing his movements on her chest or her lips. He moved his tongue into her mouth, tasting the very essence of Isabella; he'd never tasted anything more delicious. All that could be heard in the room was the faint splashing of the water lapping against the side of the tub and the muffled moans of the pair of them. The earth shattered as Isabella reached the height of her pleasure, coming apart, still wet and encased in Edward's tender embrace.

"That was..." Isabella had no words to describe how incredible she felt. It seemed as if Edward knew how to comfort and take care of her without any direction, as if he were created solely to put her at ease.

Edward smiled and carried her out of the tub, patting her dry with a large towel. "For me, too." Edward brought his lips down to her neck, kissing the sensitive skin with care. She smiled in return and leaned against his chest, allowing him to completely overtake her senses. Her head craned backwards, their lips like magnets for one another and spent the rest of the evening reveling in their newly found happiness.

But not everything could be solved by a kiss.

The following weeks were stressful. The winter got colder, covering the barren fields with a layer of thick snow. And both Isabella and Edward were getting more anxious about their predicament. Edward had found ways to smuggle food back to his dormitory for her without being detected, leaving her in his closet all day while he was forced to perform out his duties. He'd never felt better and worse about himself.

Isabella was his light, his source of purpose in the bleak darkness of his daily routine. He lived for their nights alone where he could hold her and kiss her and stroke her and bathe her...really, any time spent with Isabella was a moment well spent. She'd changed his heart completely, filling it with love and compassion, rather than submission, conformity, and duty. And he was starting to feel terrible about the treatment of the inmates of his labor camp. He'd witnessed the beating of several disobedient Jews and the starvation and murder of others. The weight of his guilt was slowly ruining any chances of a life with Isabella. He knew that he needed an escape plan, but he had no idea what to do or how to flee without being caught.

With bread-laden pockets, Edward walked swiftly down the long corridor to his room. He entered, closing the door safely behind him before opening the closet door. Isabella greeted him with a smile, which was reserved solely for him--because what else in her life was truly worth smiling for--and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. Edward lay on his bed, brushing out the knots in Isabella's hair as she sat between his legs, eating her dinner.

As soon as the bread was gone, Edward's hands began to wander, exploring Isabella's body. She'd managed to gain some weight with the bread and meats Edward retrieved for her, adding a slight curve to the shape of her body. He'd never seen anything quite as beautiful as her, and he knew he never would again. "Bella," he whispered into her ear, making her shiver with anticipation, "let's run away together. Tomorrow night is the first night of Hanukkah. We can start our lives together again...like this time ten years ago. Only this time, I'm not letting you get away from me."

Isabella's body tensed at his words. Surely he couldn't mean that. She'd hoped, prayed, even, for those words to escape his lips, but she never thought they'd come. She turned around on the bed, facing him on her knees to stare into his piercing jade eyes.

"You'd do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you, Bella." Edward smiled as he grabbed her hands, placing them on top of his wildly beating heart. She had to know how she affected him. "I love you."

Isabella said nothing at first, only nodded. She couldn't force noise out of her lungs. She hadn't felt this breathless since that first night she'd arrived at the camp and was forced into the cold and cramped bunk. "With my whole heart, Edward."

He didn't need to hear anymore. Those five words were his confirmation. Possessed by some strange magic, the two began to shed their clothes, allowing hands to roam over bare skin for the first time ever. Neither had been touched by anyone this intimately before, but nothing had ever felt more right for either one of them.

Isabella's skin puckered under his feather light touch, making her muscles quiver and tremble with the sheer intensity of it. One of his hands trailed along the outside of her thigh, brushing the underside of her knee before sliding up her inner thigh to the warmth between them. She'd never felt such intense pleasure, and it took all of her control not to cry out. Instead, a half-moan, half-whine was released through her lips. "Oh, Edward..."

Her hands trailed down his back as he moved himself to hover over her, covering them both under his heavy comforter. "Bella," he moaned quietly, keeping the volume of his voice to a low hum, as he pressed his lips to the warm skin of her neck and collarbone.

Edward's fingers slid into her, causing her to grip his shoulders tightly--he couldn't get close enough. Isabella panted into the crook of Edward's shoulders until a wild wave of pleasure crashed over her, signaling the greatest moment of her entire life thus far. She was shocked as she felt wetness seep down her thighs, and she realized quickly that it was her own arousal. Her body had been readying itself for him. She glanced downwards, seeing his manhood for the first time, and let her mouth hang open. She wanted to touch it.

Edward had other plans, however. Instead, he grabbed the hardened piece of flesh himself and placed it in between her thighs, coating it in the wetness that had dripped from her center. Her legs instinctively snapped together, trying to trap it between her thighs, but Edward stopped it, pressing outwards to make room for himself. Isabella's breath hitched - she was not so naive that she didn't know what was about to happen. And although she was young and inexperienced, she couldn't imagine anyone else she'd ever want to experience this with. She'd give herself to Edward over and over again happily for the rest of her life. They'd have to hide their relationship and wait until inter-faith marriages were acceptable, but if that meant she could be with Edward, she'd do it. Thinking it over, Isabella decided that she more than wanted to do this with Edward--she absolutely needed it.

Feeling the moment, she grabbed the back of Edward's head and pulled it to her mouth, letting her tongue slide against his teeth in a rare moment of excited passion. He pulled back, his eyes wild as he panted for air. "Bella?"

"Please, Edward," she said in hushed tones, the desire evident in her plea.

"Have you ever?" he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, as he had never done anything of the sort himself, but he found it a prudent choice to ask. After all, for as much as he loved Isabella, he knew very little about their time apart. Those ten years were off limits to both of them. They'd agreed to some unspoken rule that the only time that mattered in their lives was the time they spent together. However, awkward as it may have been, Edward waited anxiously for the answer.

"Edward, no." Isabella bit back her tears, ashamed that Edward would think so little of her as to think that she would give herself so freely to someone else. She was immediately concerned that he had, too.

Seeing her plight, he moved his hand to caress the soft skin of her flushed cheek. "My Bella, don't be upset. I had to make sure. I don't want to hurt you...I...haven't either."

She sighed in relief, but her curiosity was piqued at the mention of pain. Edward noticed, continuing to stroke her cheek. With his other hand, he grabbed his previously discarded shirt and laid it under her thighs. He knew there would be blood and was unsure of how he'd be able to dispose of his sheets without being found out. Containing the damage to his shirt just seemed more practical.

"I love you, Bella." Edward inhaled deeply before pressing his lips to hers while simultaneously pushing into her slowly, relishing the wet heat caressing his erection. Isabella tried to widen her legs to accommodate him, but he was too big. She felt as if she were being stretched, like a balloon on the verge of popping. Edward stopped when he felt her barrier against his tip. His lips never ceased their efforts, trying to bring all her attention to his mouth, but they were fruitless. He pushed through quickly, and Isabella stifled her scream, instead letting her tears fall down her face.

"I'm so sorry. I love you," Edward repeated against her lips. He stayed still, waiting for her tears to dry. It was the most effort he'd ever had to put into anything, going against the urge to move, but he did it for her.

Slowly, the searing pain subsided, leaving Isabella feeling full and only slightly uncomfortable. She experimentally pushed her hips away from Edward's, wondering how that would feel. His manhood slid out of her partially, and she missed it immediately. She pushed her hips upwards, moving it back within her and gasped in surprise at the pleasure she felt. It definitely didn't hurt anymore.

They both came to life, feeling the sensations for the first time, and loving every second of it. Hands were no longer still as their bodies moved fluidly, fitting together like a two aligning puzzle pieces. In and out, up and down, side-to-side - every motion was unintentionally perfect. Isabella loved the way that Edward felt inside her, and he felt as if she was consuming his body.

He struggled to keep the end of their exchange at bay, so inundated with love and desire for the woman beneath him. Unable to reign in the vast amounts of pleasure, Edward hardened further and exploded. He collapsed onto her chest and allowed the comfort of her hands stroking the nape of his neck and shoulders. Staying within her body, Edward soon drifted off to sleep, Isabella following shortly after. And in their perfect night of harmonized love, their breaths became synchronized in their slumber, as well, unifying them even as unconscious bodies.

The next morning came with a small flicker of hope in both Edward and Isabella's eyes. Tonight they would attempt to escape.

Edward went through his routine, leaving Isabella in his closet as he went about his duties around the camp. He flinched every time he saw another death, just wanting to get away from this horrendous place, state, country, and continent, even.

He'd spent the entire morning wondering how he was going to accomplish their departure from the camp undetected, but he was unsure of his plan. He planned to give her one of his extra uniforms, but Isabella was so petite, that he was concerned other people would take notice. He truly hoped that hiding in plain sight was the best way to go. The alternative was just too painful to think of.

As the day wound down, Edward had signed in nearly five hundred more women, each one more distraught than the next. He wished he could save each one of them, but he knew that as long as he saved the one, his Bella, he would be okay. He walked quickly, pocketing more bread for dinner, and hurried back to his dormitory. A large gasp of air entered Edward's lungs, choking him, as he opened the door to his room to be met with the sight of Isabella in one of his uniforms. Immediately, he ran into the bathroom and let his nerves overtake him as he heaved into the toilet.

"Edward?" Isabella's words came out choked and frantic as she took the rare moment to comfort him, wiping the sweat from his brow and pushing back his matted hair. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, but when his eyes met the brown uniform on Isabella's fair skin, he heaved yet again. "I just...the uniform...it...." He struggled for words adequate enough for how shocked, appalled, and ashamed he felt at seeing that uniform on someone so pure. "It's fine," he assured her, wiping the vomit from his chin. "I'm sorry. And it's Hanukkah, and I don't even have a present for you."

Isabella had never seen Edward panic, and her stomach became wrought with worry. "Edward, I've had so much more time with you than I ever thought I would. You saved me. That is your gift to me." She grabbed his chin, forcing his evading eyes to meet her piercing ones. "I love you. Always."

"I love you always," he agreed, kissing her forehead softly before pinning her hair under one of his officer's caps. It made his stomach turn, seeing her in the uniform, but he managed to control his reactions. "We should leave now, while everyone is at dinner."

Isabella turned even paler than usual and gripped his hands, pulling him down to the bed. "I'm serious, Edward. I love you. Always." Her repeated words assured Edward in a way that he didn't know was possible. And when she brushed her lips against his knuckles, kissing his trembling hands, he finally relaxed.

With trepidation, they exited his room. It was the first time that Isabella had been outside of his dormitory in over six weeks, since the day she'd gotten to the camp. She hadn't realized how cold the weather had turned, and she shivered, even under the heavy fabric of the stifling uniform. Fear wracked her body as she stood stiffly, walking behind Edward. She kept her eyes trained forward, as he'd explained to her. Officers never looked at the ground--why would they? It insinuated weakness, and they believed they were anything but.

As they approached the exit, Edward ran into a bunch of guards--some of whom he knew fairly well. They had reputations for being some of the most terrifying and sadistic of the officers. They operated with little care for anyone but themselves and failed to keep anyone else in their regards. Edward had recently discovered what they were--cowards. However, he realized that they would be more difficult to pass by without questioning. Instinctively, his stomach clenched and tied into knots.

"Cullen," the one named James called out brusquely, tipping his head in their direction. "Who do we have here?" he laughed in the direction of the tiny figure behind Edward. He'd never seen a soldier so small before, and he wondered who had recruited him to work at the camp. Who would listen to a weak looking officer?

"New boy," Edward answered, pulling Isabella towards him, resting a steadying hand on her shaking shoulder. "Doesn't seem to be quite cut out for the life here." Edward smiled, hoping to appease James, but his words hadn't seemed to. If anything, James now seemed more interested. His cold blue eyes slid over to the guard to his right, a young man named Victor.

Victor jumped into the conversation, not wanting to seem uninterested. "You sick?" he addressed Isabella directly. She flinched; she couldn't respond aloud--he'd hear her voice and shoot her on the spot. There were no new female guards, and they would be informed of that.

Instead, Isabella was quick on her feet and let a hacking cough rip free from the confines of her weak lungs, which were being affected by the cold anyway. The cough hurt her chest, finally being released in full after six weeks of being stifled. Victor and James both flinched at the wet sound of her cough; it was clear that she needed medical attention. It just wasn't clear as to why that attention needed to be outside the confines of the camp.

Edward saw the curious glances being exchanged between the two boys and decided to intervene. "Obviously, he is very sick, and I've been informed that the hospital would be better suited than the camp infirmary." Edward pulled Isabella's shaking body even closer to his, squeezing her shoulder in the way men would with one another. It wasn't as comforting as she was used to, but it helped soothed her worries nonetheless. Edward wouldn't let anything happen to her if he could help it. She knew that.

James sneered and rolled his eyes at the friendly gesture. "Well, better you than me, Cullen. I have no desire to catch that nasty ailment." Edward swallowed thickly before finally allowing his breath to exhale stiffly. "Be gone with you."

Edward and Isabella nodded in unison, joy coursing through their bodies. They were so close to their freedom; they could taste it. Suddenly, James called out again, making them freeze on the spot. "Wait, Cullen, I forgot to ask for the new boy's paperwork. I need to sign him out."

"Unfortunately, we don't have it on us." Edward kept his voice smooth, feigning calm. "He left it back in our bunk, but he remembered after we'd already made it half way here. Can't you overlook it just this once?" He needed James to agree. Without his consent, they'd both be as good as dead. Edward looked with pleading eyes, and finally Victor just shook his head and shooed them off, telling him to get the young boy out of the cold before the wind rattled his weak lungs even further.

Edward thanked them both profusely and turned to leave, reigning in his impulse to grab Isabella's hand. Just as they stepped onto the snow-covered road, a heavy wind shook through the leaves, swirling around their bodies. The hat, which was far too big for Isabella to begin with, rattled around her head and as she slipped slightly on the icy pavement, it came loose and flew back into the air.

Her hair unraveled, flying around her face in a dark curtain. Edward's eyes widened, hoping that James and Victor were too distracted with their heavy egos and inane conversation to notice. Isabella wanted to run. Her feet prepared for flight, but she needed Edward by her side. Always. And he seemed frozen in place, willing their escape to remain undisturbed. The officer's cap fell to the snow closer to the pair of guards, interrupting their conversation with a light crunching noise on the snow.

"Hey!" James called out, finally seeing that the small boy was actually a woman. He reached for his rifle, having been trained to stop the traitors in their deviant plans. He knew Cullen, and actually liked him, but to attempt an escape was beyond foolish. Obviously, he wouldn't allow them to get away. The gun aimed straight for the woman; she would go down with one shot.

The world slowed to a snail's pace as Edward watched James reach for his gun and aim it towards Isabella. His protective instincts took over. "No!" he screamed, pushing Isabella to the ground. He heard her gasp the same time as the thunderous clap of the rifle. The pain came moments later, searing through his back like a hot poker. His knees gave out, falling to the frozen ground. "Run, Bella, please," he cried, the pain to great for him to even raise his head and ensure her safety.

"No." Isabella knew she shouldn't move from her place on the ground. If she stayed still, perhaps she'd be able to escape during the changing of the guards. They'd assume she'd been killed and ignore her, but every fiber in her body was pulling her to Edward. Edward, who had just taken a bullet for her. He'd literally give his life for her, but of course, she'd do the same. And now, as she stared at the empty white expanse of snow between them, she knew that she'd never be able to live without him either. "No, Edward," she wheezed as she crawled over to him.

James, who thought he'd shot the girl, saw her move and reached for his gun again. This time, he ensured he aimed and did not miss. Her body jolted forward, crashing into the kneeling body of the fatally wounded boy. He smirked with satisfaction as he watched her collapse onto his chest.

Soon, Edward was on his back, staring up at the gray sky, trying to keep his eyes open. His hands went to the cold figure on top of him. Silent tears leaked from his eyes. "No, Bella, no, no. I'm sorry."

"Shh," was all heard in return. Her voice was thin, using significant effort to be heard. He wasn't sure where Isabella had been shot, but when he lifted his hand to push her hair out of her face, he noticed it was covered in her blood. "We can always be together now, Edward. I love you."

"Together always," Edward said, but he doubted it. He knew that a pure and innocent soul like Bella's would go straight to heaven, and he was surely bound for hell. "I love you more." He smiled, letting his eyes grow heavy as his body became numb with his approaching death.

"Impossible," Isabella whispered, nuzzling slightly into his chest. Her eyes could no longer stay open, and she wanted Edward to know just how much he'd meant to her. Then, now, and always. Their bodies, intertwined in a lovers' embrace, grew more frigid together, their shivering ceasing as their blood flowed beneath them, staining the snow red.

And although their bodies gave way and all that was left was the cold, they still had one another.

*** * * * * * ***

**Dedicated to: anyone who has lost people they love to the horrors of war and genocide—the survivors, their families, their friends, and especially to those who are proud of their Jewish heritage. May you always be…then, now, and forever.**


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